


let's lose our minds and go crazy crazy

by okaystop



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: 1950s, 1950s Slang, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Beach Holidays, F/F, F/M, First Time, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 19:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20569469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaystop/pseuds/okaystop
Summary: The summer after high school graduation, their first summer of freedom, is new and bright and the sky is full of promise. Emily wants to plan out the weeks down to the minute. Tommy wants to take it one day at a time. Hanna wants to spend as much time together as possible. Jon wants to take advantage of every moment before it's over. Somehow they'll make it work, together.





	let's lose our minds and go crazy crazy

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [with the sky all blue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19481395) by [kenopsia (indie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indie/pseuds/kenopsia), [ruthvsreality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthvsreality/pseuds/ruthvsreality). 

> Title is from "Cake by the Ocean," by DNCE. Specifically, the version from Grease Live on FOX.
> 
> Super huge thanks to [SelfRescuingPrincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelfRescuingPrincess/pseuds/SelfRescuingPrincess) for her excellent beta work. Her comments, questions, and suggestions all made this so much better and I couldn't have done this without her editing and encouragement.
> 
> With remixes on my mind, I was inspired by a few things, namely kenopsia (indie) and ruthvsreality's wonderful OT4 summer fic, "with all the sky blue." Also, Ira's birthday party photos and _Grease_ and the summer and Tommy's love of fireworks and couples vacationing together and and and - _everything_. All of that came together and then I wrote over 10K words, and this is it! I really hope everyone enjoys this; I sure enjoyed writing it.
> 
> \--

Jon pulls his knapsack onto his shoulders and mounts his Schwinn, gravel kicking up behind him as he heads out onto the road and, a block later, makes the turn towards Tommy's house. Tommy doesn't live very far from Jon, but along the way, Jon rides through his neighborhood of prefab houses, crosses the railroad tracks, and sees the world open up before him in the early morning light. He stops on the street in front of the Vietors' new Cape Cod, his long legs straddling the bike. He adjusts his summer-job-issued ball cap, lifting the rim up from his forehead so he can see up the drive. He spots Tommy walking his bike down the long, winding driveway, his beach bag slung across his shoulders.

Tommy smiles when Jon catches his eye, bright and warm, his cheekbones flushed. He slings an arm around Jon's shoulder, gets as close to him as he can, sides pressed together. "Happy first day of summer, Favreau," he says. He lingers for a moment, squeezes Jon's bicep, before swinging a leg over to get on his bike.

He's always pulled into Tommy's orbit, ever since Little League when they were eight, and Jon lists toward him until they're apart. He sits back onto his own bike and grins, gap-toothed and wide, at Tommy. "Race you to the end of the block." He doesn't wait for Tommy to agree, just shoves off and pedals away. He throws his head back and laughs when Tommy shouts after him.

Jon's legs are burning when he gets to the end of the block, brakes at the corner, Tommy coming to a stop beside him. "The only way you'll ever beat me is to cheat like that," Tommy teases. He nudges his elbow against Jon's, lets their arms press together for a moment longer than is probably all right. He leans forward, forearms on the handlebars, and turns toward Jon.

"Maybe one of these days I'll give you a headstart," Jon says. He knocks his knee lightly against the side of Tommy's. A moment passes between them, then they head off down the road. 

The closer they ride toward the shore, the more the air fills with the salty scent of seawater. Jon watches a cluster of gulls glide and swoop, disappearing behind a row of shingled houses. The rush of the ocean fills the sticky air. This early in the morning, the neighborhoods Jon and Tommy ride through together are quiet, still asleep, but as they turn out onto the main street, the town is waking up. 

When they get to the three-way intersection, with the soda shop at one corner, Pfeiffer's Diner on the other, and the sand dunes hiding the sea in front of them, they stop. Jon's summer job is further down the street, at the pier, selling sno-cones out of a hut, and Tommy's spending another summer on the lifeguard stand. 

"Make sure you can take off for lunch at one," Jon reminds Tommy. Jon leans in towards him a little before catching himself and straightening. They're in the middle of town. 

Tommy's barely-there eyebrows raise. He slaps a hand on Jon's shoulder, curls his fingers and rubs, imperceptibly, before pulling away. "See you later, Favreau," he says, then hurries off, strong legs pumping the bike right up over the sand dunes. He pauses at the top, waving without looking back.

Jon turns right and rides down the street toward the pier.

-

Jon isn't too keen on his job at the sno-cone hut, mostly because it means dealing with all the people he knows from school and their ankle biter siblings. It's not a glamorous job, or even a coveted one, which explains why he got hired in the first place. He isn't like Tommy, who's sitting pretty up in a lifeguard stand, tanning all summer. Tommy doesn't even need the job, another one to pile on among the odd jobs he takes all year long, just to have pocket money for burgers or shakes or whatever. And the girls don't have to work that summer at all.

Emily comes over to the hut just before lunch time, her blonde ponytail bouncing and her face bright. A picnic basket dangles off her arm. "Hanna found a place down near the cove," she says. She's wearing a one-piece swimsuit, covered up by high-waisted shorts and a shoulder wrap. A pair of cheaters that Jon's pretty sure belong to Hanna perch on her nose. "Fifteen minutes, Jonny," she says, teasing. "See you soon!"

If Jon's hands weren't covered in four different flavors of sticky syrup, he might have reached out and tugged on her ponytail, but instead he just winks at her and promises he'll be there. "Don't forget Tommy," she calls out over her shoulder as she bounds away, disappearing into the throng of folks milling about along the pier. 

He watches her go for too long of a moment, interrupted by an impatient patron who demands to know where his cherry sno-cone is. He calls Jon a greaser and receives an eye roll and a very drippy cone in return. The man doesn't tip, and Jon puts up the 'gone to lunch' sign before a line forms. 

He cleans up in the public restroom as much as he can, but his white t-shirt is still splattered with a rainbow of flavored syrups, and his fingertips are stained red and blue.

Jon picks his way across the beach, ignoring the sunbathers and shouts for him to get off their towels (he isn't even walking on anyone's towels). When he gets to the lifeguard stand, he leans against the side and squints up at Tommy. 

Tommy doesn't notice Jon at first. He sits with his back straight, knees open and bare feet planted onto the whitewashed wood, eyes scanning the water. He's bare-chested and wearing red swimming trunks. Jon just watches him for a moment, the wave of his blond hair against his forehead, the broadness of his shoulders, the way the sun has kissed his skin already, leaving him pink at his neck, across his collarbone. Jon wants to bite the tender skin there. He clears his throat and Tommy looks down at him, startled, then smiles wide.

"The girls say it's picnic time," Jon informs him. It always feels good to refer to them like that. The girls. Safe and warm, waiting for them, over by the cove. Probably with a picnic blanket spread out. Emily said she packed fresh strawberries. "Can you get away?"

Tommy checks his watch, blinks up at the sun, then nods. "As soon as Ben gets here to take over."

"I'm right here." Ben nods at Jon but otherwise doesn't acknowledge him. Most of the other guys that Tommy knows, from church or from the country club, don't even bother with a nod. Usually it's like Jon doesn't exist. "Have a good lunch," he says, climbing up past Jon as Tommy hops down the other side of the platform.

Tommy thanks him and throws a towel over his shoulder. When Jon steps up beside him, he lets his fingers brush against Tommy's, hidden in the folds of the towel. It stings like a secret, and Jon curls his fist at his side. 

They don't talk much more than asking how their jobs are going, how the morning went, as they walk to the less crowded side of the beach and over a sand dune to find Hanna and Emily tucked away alongside the cove. If it were evening, this part of the beach would be dotted with couples searching for their own private spot, but with the mid-afternoon sun high above, it's all theirs.

There is lunch, and it looks lovely, but mostly Jon's glad they're all together. He leans in to kiss Emily, pulling her into his arms as soon as she rises from the checkerboard picnic blanket she and Hanna are spread out on. Tommy does the same, leaning down to press against Hanna, forehead to forehead. Then, after a moment of open-air hesitation and four-way eye contact, Jon, grinning, leans in to smack a quick kiss on the side of Hanna's face.

Emily giggles and sets a hand on the inside of Tommy's elbow, then presses up on her tiptoes to brush her pursed pink lips to his cheek. "I hope you're hungry," she says, stepping back and sinking to her knees on the blanket. She tugs Hanna down beside her. "We have a lot of food."

Jon and Tommy exchange a look before joining the girls on the ground. Jon slings an arm casually around Emily's shoulders so she tips in against him, cheeks flushed. "You girls spoil us," he says. He glances over at Tommy, who has stretched his legs out in front of him. Hanna's hand, her nails painted cherry red, is on his bare chest, steadying herself as she and Emily open the picnic basket and start passing out sandwiches and potato salad and some kind of jiggly Jell-o salad that looks like it has pretzels in it.

It feels exhilarating, under the blaring hot and bright sun, out in the open, that the four of them can share a picnic lunch on the beach and be free with their affections towards one another. 

Jon has always had a particular feeling when it came to Tommy, who he's known since they played ball together when they were young. This desire pooled in his belly to nip at Tommy’s wrists, touch his knee, smell his hair, kiss him the way he kisses his girlfriends. But it isn't something to act on, even though it's clear that Tommy feels the same way. So instead, they hold a glance too long, touch more familiarly than they should. 

And besides that, Tommy's been dating Hanna since sophomore year, despite being polar opposites. They've been jacketed since last summer. Jon asked once how Tommy's family likes Hanna, and the glint in his blue eyes said more than his answer - "well, they don't _hate_ her" - and the accompanying shrug. Then Jon started dating Emily, Hanna's best friend, midway through senior year, a surprise to just about everyone, including Jon. Emily is more in line with Tommy's country club crowd. Jon isn't really the one girlfriend type, but he has Emily and it hasn't been all that hard, not really. Especially because it isn't just him and Emily, no, it's him and Emily, Tommy and Hanna. 

"Emily's making a list," Hanna announces, some time later, halfway through her sandwich. She casts an eyeball over at Emily, who ducks her cheek against Jon's arm, fondly.

"What sort of list?" Tommy asks. He holds his Coke bottle out to Jon, who uses the button on his jeans to flick the top off. 

Emily's cheeks are pink. "I just want to make sure we do absolutely everything that we can this summer, before -" She rubs across the bridge of her nose. "Before Tommy and I go off to college and you go - well, do whatever it is you're doing and Hanna moves to the city."

Jon's eyes widen. "Hanna's moving to the city?"

Hanna shrugs. "I don't know. I might. I might not. What are _you_ doing, Jon?"

He shrugs and bites into a strawberry, the juice slipping down his chin. Emily giggles and wipes it off with the side of her finger. Before he can answer, he's watching her stick her finger in her mouth. "You're making a mess," she tells him quietly, boldly. Emily's the type of girl to wear twin sets and saddle shoes, her mother's pearls around her neck. Yet every day since they started going together, she surprises Jon.

"Yes, I am," he whispers. She presses her lips to his and pops off a quick kiss before burrowing back in against him. Jon relaxes, stretches his leg out, casually, against Tommy's. 

Tommy breathes out a bit, tightly.

Hanna clears her throat, sitting up away from Tommy and stretching, her red bikini tight across her chest. "Tell the boys what's on your list, Em," she says. She turns so her back is against Tommy's arm and steals his Coke for a long swallow.

Emily straightens and presses her palms down over her bare knees. "Well," she says, then leans over to pull a folded piece of paper from where it's tucked into the picnic basket. "We need to go to the drive-in, of course, and the diner. We should go to a beach bash too, oh! - and maybe - Jon, will you take us to the roadhouse down on route seven?" 

Jon slides the heel of his hand against the side of his head, careful not to mess up his slicked back hair. "Sure, we can go there," he says. "Hanna's been, haven't you?"

She hums a little, cocks her head to look at Jon with an unreadable expression. "I like to go dancing there, yeah, but Tommy's never gone with me." She turns and pouts at him.

Tommy's face reddens. "Yes, well, I'm not sure that's an entirely appropriate place -"

Jon throws his head back and laughs. "Don't be a stick in the mud, Tom," he says. "We'll go. There's a band at the end of the month that's supposed to be the bee's knees."

"Nothing this weekend?" Emily asks, pouting a little. She looks between Jon and Tommy with big eyes and a twitch in her cheek.

"The drive-in's playing that new flick, It Came From Outer Space," Tommy offers, even though he's not sure that's the kind of movie the girls would want to see. "We could go see it, all of us, together."

"Great!" Hanna claps her hands. "It's a date."

-

Tommy borrows his dad's flip top so the four of them can go to the drive-in together.

It's a little later than they meant to be, by the time they pull into the drive-in, so Tommy has to park in the back, under a tree that's going to block a quarter of the movie screen. It's on the far side, a long walk between them and the concessions stand and bathrooms, but the advantage is, of course, more privacy.

There really isn't enough room in the back seat for all four of them, but they make it work. Jon and Tommy squeeze in against each other, Jon's hip tight against Tommy's thigh, their ankles crossed, with the girls splayed out half on top of them. It's a tangle of limbs and takes a moment of knocking elbows and bumping into each other before they're all comfortable enough. 

Hanna curls her fingers against Tommy's chest and breathes them all in. "I don't think we're going to watch much of the movie," she whispers to Emily, licking her lips.

"What movie is it again?" Emily laughs, full-throated, and tucks her cheek in against the side of Jon's neck. She sighs, content, and brushes the back of her hand against his jaw until he kisses her. Jon presses a hand against her lower back and shifts, slightly, but enough that his thigh moves against Tommy's.

Tommy groans, tries to hide it with a swallow, by turning and kissing behind Hanna's ear, but they all notice. They haven't done this before. Oh, sure, one time when they were hanging at Hanna's house, radio on in the basement, they all made out a little. But they were on separate couches, across the room from each other, not crammed into the backseat of a car where Tommy isn't sure what's causing him to get more and more turned on, Jon's leg against his, Emily's arm brushing his chest when she moves, or Hanna's mouth on his neck. 

Beside him, he can hear Emily and Jon kissing, can feel them moving until she's practically on top of him. Jon's shoulders tense as he wraps an arm around her, long fingers splayed against her lower back. Tommy turns his face, under the pretense of giving Hanna more room to nose and mouth at his jaw, and watches. His breathing changes, and he can't help but lean in toward them a little, toward Jon, near enough that he can smell the pomade in his hair.

Hanna lifts her head, and his attention snaps back to her. He accidentally elbows Jon in the side, causes him to pull back from kissing Emily and gasp. He turns his face toward Tommy. "What's wrong?"

Hanna sits up, leaning over Tommy, and shares a look with Emily. They seem to have some kind of silent conversation before Emily lowers her chin demurely and nods, blushing. "Swap with me, Em?" Hanna asks, and Tommy isn't sure what she means until the two of them are crawling over Jon and Tommy, too many parts of their bodies touching, and end up completely switching places. It isn't exactly what Tommy is thinking, but it's a nice surprise anyway.

Emily tilts her face up expectantly and Tommy moves the rest of the way, kissing her soundly and pulling her in, his arm hoisting her up and against him. It's different, he thinks, kissing Emily. She's not as brash as Hanna is, lets him have control of the kiss even as her small hands find his sides and settle there, hot through the cotton of his shirt. She tastes like bubblegum.

Tommy breaks the kiss to see what's going on, his heart picking up speed as he watches Jon and Hanna. Hanna, lithe and lovely, brushes a thumb across Jon's jawline, a move that has Tommy weak in the knees every time. He likes seeing it work on Jon too. Jon's eyes flutter shut. Tommy feels so tender about the both of them, holding his breath. He feels full to bursting when Hanna leans in to kiss Jon's slack mouth.

Jon draws back just enough to put a word between them. "We have a lot of privacy here," he murmurs.

"Yes," Hanna agrees, petting down his sides and moving over him until she's pretty much in his lap. Tommy's girlfriend is in Jon's lap, and they all like it. "We do." 

Jon looks at Tommy for a moment, eyes dark. He licks his lips, his gaze dropping to Tommy's mouth, for only a fraction of a second, before he kisses Hanna again, filthy and open-mouthed. Tommy forces himself to look away and focus on Emily, whose weight feels good against his thighs and across his lap.

"Tommy," Emily whispers. "What are you waiting for?"

Dating Hanna for the past three years has exposed him to a lot, and even knowing all that, he's still surprised that Emily is as handsy as she is. He has this image of her, strengthened by watching her demure blushing when Jon is affectionate, never seeing anything more between them but held hands and kisses on the cheek in public. But the way she's kissing his neck, moving her pretty pink lips up his chin until she's kissing him, just as filthy and open-mouthed as Hanna's kissing Jon, shoots a coil of desire right into his stomach.

One of Tommy's hands moves to Emily's hip, holding her against him in an effort not to roll his hips too much up at her, like he wants to. His other snakes down between him and Jon, finds Jon's thigh where it's mashed against his. He spreads his palm out there, feels Jon's muscle leap under his touch. Jon moves beside him, moaning into Hanna's mouth. A moment later, Tommy feels Jon's fingers lace through his, his palm hot over Tommy's knuckles. Together, they squeeze Jon's thigh.

Tommy twists, Emily pressing down against him, toward Jon. He needs more, not just from Emily's mouth, her tongue sliding against his, and her hands, one of which has found his hair with a sigh, but also from Jon, and Hanna, who are playing back seat bingo just as heavily beside them. He wants more of this, whatever it is, whatever it might become. When he feels a hand on his waist, fingers scrabbling at the buttons on his shirt to try to get under it, he doesn't know whose it is. He thinks it might be Hanna's. He reaches out blindly, curves his hand over Hanna's shoulder, presses her against Jon. A dainty, socked foot traces up under the cuff of his chinos. 

It's all so much, all at once. It’s intoxicating being tangled up with them, braided and inextricable.

Jon turns his hand over and pushes his fingers through Tommy's until they're grasping each other's hand. Hanna breaks her kiss with Jon, slides off him so that she's tucked against the side of the car, and leans her chin on his chest. They're both breathing heavily, and Jon dips his nose into her hair but looks at Tommy.

When Emily slides her mouth away from Tommy's and sets her cheek against his chest too, Tommy's eyes meet Jon's. He takes in how he looks, red lips swollen from kissing, face flushed, eyes dark. He wants more.

Hanna's fingers close around Tommy's wrist and she lifts his hand where it's still joined with Jon's. One of her perfectly-manicured eyebrows arches, and she opens her lips against the back of Tommy's hand. "You can, you know, if you want to," she says, her voice low, her gaze darting between Jon and Tommy.

"Can what?" Tommy asks, his voice sounding hollow and far away to his own ears, because she can't possibly be saying what he thinks she's saying. His chest tightens, and Jon starts to pull his hand away.

"Kiss him," Emily says, barely loud enough to hear over the pounding of Tommy's own heart. She lifts her head from his chest. "Don't you want to?"

Jon's the one who answers, quickly, just one word out in a hoarse breath. "Yes," he says.

Tommy's lips part, and he can't find the words, can't even decide how to say _really? can we?_

Hanna spreads her hand out against Tommy's collarbone, just above where Emily's resting her head. "It's all right, Tommy," she says, a little breathless. "Em and I have."

"You - have?" he asks.

Emily, blushing, giggles. "Sure we have. We have a lot of sleep-overs."

Hanna pushes herself up onto her side and leans across Jon and Tommy. Then, she and Emily are kissing, warm and wet. It looks like they might be at the wrong angle for it to be comfortable. Tommy shifts a little, away from Jon to give Emily more room in case she needs to move to adjust their kiss. He sets a hand at her hip, steadying her, and watches, slack-jawed, eyes wide.

He sneaks a glance at Jon, expecting Jon to be watching the girls too, but instead he's looking at Tommy. Jon swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. He lifts his chin, just a little, but an obvious invitation nonetheless. Tommy doesn't consider not taking it, and he moves first, closing the narrow space between him and Jon and kissing him. 

Jon's lips are chapped, but his mouth is warm, and he doesn't hesitate to suck Tommy's tongue right into his mouth. It's a deep kiss, full of what must be years of pent-up lust that Tommy hadn't been ready to admit he carried around too. He can feel Jon's five o'clock shadow against his cheek as they kiss, and the only reason Tommy doesn't launch himself flush against Jon is because of the girls sprawled across them. There's so little room for them to move around, which is good, cool, really keen, and Tommy doesn't mind at all.

Emily's hand is in his hair, her fingers rubbing around his ear. Her mouth opens against the side of his neck. Tommy is overwhelmed with sensations, kisses Jon harder, with teeth and a moan, and he presses his thigh between Jon's knees. He wants to tear at his hair, mess up the pomade, bite at his neck, grind their hips together. It's not a new desire, but it's the first time he's acted on it, has never even considered being able to do so before.

Above them, Hanna laughs, throatily, and Tommy feels a small fist curl against his stomach, moving lower. He has to pull away from Jon, panting. He twists away from him, tries to sit up more. Sweat has beaded on his forehead, and his shirt is stuck to his chest. He looks at the three of them, who are looking back at him. Emily's eyelashes flutter. Jon's tongue, which has just been inside Tommy's mouth, flicks across his pouty lower lip. Hanna touches her fingertips to her hairline.

Tommy smiles, laughs too, it bubbling up and out, maybe too loud here at the drive-in where other people are trying to pay attention to the flick. Hanna and Emily both shush him, giggling themselves. He's real gone on all of them, not just with Hanna but, he realizes, with Emily too, and Jon.

"Our boyfriends are dreamy," Emily says, her lower lip between her teeth.

Hanna's smile grows. "The _most_." She curls up against Jon's chest and settles her gaze on Tommy. Tommy’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and he tightens his arm around Emily as he also finds Jon's hand squished between them.

-

It's late, after ten o'clock at least, and Jon is sitting on the back stoop of his parents' house, flicking the lighter his dad gave him for his 18th birthday. He doesn’t smoke anymore - Emily told him it made him smell like an ashtray and she wouldn't kiss him if he kept it up - but that didn't stop the habit of playing with the lighter. Or his oral fixation. He shoves the lighter into his back pocket and chews on his fingernails, foot tapping on the concrete.

He can't sleep, which is fairly usual. Always more of a night owl than an early morning bird, and the house is quiet behind him with his parents and brother already in bed. He'd rather be outside than in, even though he doesn't have much to do if he can't be banging around in the garage on his motorcycle, the one that's never ran and likely never will, no matter how much time he puts into it.

He hears a rustle, something in the weeds at the back of the yard, and he tenses. It's probably just a squirrel or something. But a figure emerges, a dark shape because the moon's barely a sliver in the sky. Jon rises and makes a fist at his side. It isn't a squirrel, and he doesn't want a fight but if he has to have one -

"Favs," comes the greeting, and then Tommy steps into the light cast from the other side of the kitchen window. It slides across his cheekbones and outlines his jaw. His hair looks soft, and his mouth is pulled into a tight line.

Relief passes through him. Tommy used to sneak out to Jon's house more often, when they were younger, when Tommy couldn't sleep, listening to his parents fighting. They used to sit in Jon's backyard, pulling at the grass in the moonlight, sometimes never even talking. One time, Tommy fell asleep with his head in Jon's lap. It's been a few years, though. 

Jon rubs his hands on his denim clad thighs and steps down off the back patio. "What's up, doc?" It doesn't get Tommy to smile the way he expects. He reaches out for Tommy, nudges him around the side of the house, out of view, into the shadows. "Tom?"

Tommy shakes his head, pacing on the small patch of dirt between the house and chain link fence the neighbor put up. "Do you -?"

Jon waits.

"Fuck," Tommy breathes out, and Jon realizes he's never heard Tommy cuss like that before, not out loud, not sharp. Jon touches his arm and Tommy tenses. He curls his fingers around his bicep, just under his pegged sleeve, and steps in closer to Tommy.

"Hey man," Jon says, keeping his voice low, not wanting it to carry in the quiet night air. "What's going on?"

In reply, Tommy fists his hand at the collar of Jon's tee and pulls him up against him, mashing his mouth against Jon's. He's only a few inches taller than Jon is, but that's enough to make this much different than necking in the backseat of a car. Jon's only ever had to lean down to kiss a chick before, has always liked the feeling of being bigger than her. Like with Emily, who’s so small, Jon always feels like he can surround and protect her. That's what Tommy's doing now, pushing Jon until his back hits the bricks, curling a hand against the side of Jon's neck so he can adjust the kiss. Tommy tastes minty fresh and clean, and Jon's glad he didn't nick a Lucky Strike from the pack his pop left out on the counter. 

Jon pushes right back, gripping Tommy's hips and grinding his up against him. The kiss is wet, heated, like maybe this won't happen again. But it can happen again, if they want it to. It can even happen right here like it is, Tommy's mouth on his, his tongue fighting against Jon's, their chests pressed together.

It's not a first-time experiment, not like before at the drive-in, with the girls. This is more than that. It's a rush, this permission they have, granted by their girlfriends and each other. The feelings aren't new, but the permission is. 

Jon gets his hands between them, breath catching somewhere in his throat. He tries not to think about the fact that he's actually getting to do this, even as he works on the button on Tommy's chinos, then the zipper. He shoves a hand inside until he can palm Tommy's dick, right there, right through his briefs. 

Tommy balks, tears his mouth away from Jon's, gasping, eyes wide. "Favs." He bows his head, pushes his forehead against Jon's shoulder. His fingers tighten against Jon's neck but he doesn't pull away. His other hand clamps down on Jon's wrist. "_Jon_."

Jon's breathing is heavy, so he turns his nose into Tommy's hair. He nods a little. "Let me make you feel good," he says, half-mumbling. He gives Tommy's dick a squeeze and feels Tommy's entire body shudder. His grip on Jon's wrist loosens but doesn't fall away. Jon fumbles a little, spreads out his fingers so he can get them under Tommy's waistband, pull his dick out. Tommy hisses when the cool summer air hits his bare skin, followed by Jon's hand wrapped around him. 

When Jon starts to stroke him, Tommy helps him, until they're jacking Tommy off together. He wants to look, but it's dark and they're standing too close together, so he focuses on the feeling, the heat of Tommy's dick in his hand, the warmth of Tommy's breath against the side of Jon's neck.

Jon groans, his own dick tucked too tightly into his jeans. "That's it," Jon whispers. "Just like that." He did this one time before, jack off another guy, but it didn't feel like this. He's getting more turned on by Tommy working with him than he would if he was touching Jon's dick instead. 

Tommy nods, panting. His teeth graze Jon's jaw. "Jon," he grunts and comes, spilling over Jon's hand and down their wrists. His hand slides down to Jon's shoulder, steadying them both. He lets go of Jon's wrist, too. "That was - "

"I know." Jon wipes his hand off, across his stomach, sagging back against the side of the house. He's so hard it hurts, and when Tommy moves, even a little bit, he can't help but rut against him, anything for some relief. Jon turns his head and finds Tommy's mouth, kisses him sloppily. He grips Tommy's hips and uses him to get off, his dick painfully pressing into the zipper of his jeans. He needs more, needs to - 

Jon shoves his hand between them and pops his button, gasps in relief. He barely gets a hand on himself before he's coming, knocking himself against Tommy and swallowing a shout, his mouth open against Tommy's throat. 

Tommy's hands grasp the sides of Jon's face, holding on. He murmurs Jon's name over and over again, kisses his cheek, jaw, the side of his chin. Jon can't find any words, his throat and chest tight. He rubs his hands, roughly, up and down Tommy's arms. He doesn't know how long they stay like that, hips tight together, touching everywhere they can. Tommy kisses him again, gently, close lipped. "I'll see you tomorrow," he says, quietly, and then he's gone.

Jon can't quite catch his breath, and he waits until he can't hear his heart thudding in his ears before fixing up his jeans and going inside the house.

-

Tommy picks Jon up in his dad's car, again, the top down and Tommy's hair and cheeks windswept. "Look at you," Jon greets, sliding into the passenger seat and resisting the urge, under the dull streetlight, to lean across the seat to him. "What did you have to promise to get this ride again tonight?"

"A month's worth of chauffeuring him to and from the country club," Tommy says with a shrug. "Means I'll be tied down every night at suppertime practically for the rest of summer."

Jon frowns, for only a moment, then it passes. He usually has to help at home over supper anyway, but he still liked the idea that maybe one of these nights, they could all go out to Pfeiffer's Diner together in the evening, instead of for breakfast or lunch. Or the soda shop, as the sun's setting.

Tommy steers the car away from the curb and cruises down the street. He reaches out to give Jon's knee a squeeze. Jon's legs fall open slightly at Tommy's unexpected touch, and Tommy pushes the envelope a little, stroking his fingertips from the inside of his knee to his upper thigh, right against the inseam of his blue jeans.

"Tommy," Jon protests, without heat. "You're driving."

"This is true," he said and, after circling his fingertips on Jon's inner thigh in a last lingering touch, puts both hands on the steering wheel.

"Tommy," Jon says again, this time in a very different tone. The corners of Tommy's mouth curl upward. He drives a little faster.

They pick up the girls at Emily's house, and Jon gets out to let them both climb into the backseat, tumbling in together. Hanna slides her fingertips along the back of Jon's neck as she crawls over to sit behind Tommy. She leans around Tommy to kiss him, open-mouthed and with tongue, and he reaches for her as she sinks to the seat behind him, grinning. Emily is less bold in her affection, pressing a quick kiss to the side of Jon's head and squeezing Tommy's shoulder before sitting beside Hanna and turning into her with a smile. They continue their conversation on the short ride out to the roadhouse, Jon casting sideways glances at Tommy, smile widening each time their eyes meet.

They pile out of the car, one after the other, when he parks it outside the roadhouse, and couple off in their mismatched way - Hanna and Tommy, Jon and Emily.

They form a striking foursome. 

Jon with his hair greased back, wears a leather jacket and white t-shirt, cuffed jeans, and Chuck Taylors. His entire wardrobe consists of this, with the exception of one collared shirt his mom makes him wear to church when she can convince him to go. 

Hanna's dressed to match him (even though she isn't matched _with_ him), in pedal pushers and a red top that bares her shoulders, draws attention to her sharp collarbone. She's tied a white scarf around her neck and painted her lips cherry red. Tommy dresses like he's going to supper at the country club, minus the suit coat, and Emily's wearing much of the same, a modest yellow dress with sky blue polka dots, her makeup soft and muted compared to Hanna's brash lips and dark eyes. 

Jon tugs on Emily's hand, hurrying them to the door, turns to look over his shoulder at Tommy, who's hesitating. "C'mon. You'll have fun," he says, makes the scouting salute for Tommy with a grin. "Swear it."

For someone who looks like he belongs in many more places than Jon ever feels like he belongs, Tommy looks like a deer caught in the headlights. Hanna slides her fingers down his arm and into his hand, leans up to say something low in his ear. Tommy turns red, but doesn't look away from Jon. 

Emily bustles with energy beside Jon, too eager. They can hear the muted sounds of the music coming from inside. "Tommy," she whines, pressing herself against Jon. "It's just a band and dancing. What are you so nervous about?"

"Yeah," Tommy says, after clearing his throat. "I know, just -"

"You'll relax after we get a drink in you," Jon promises. He winks at Tommy and Hanna, then leads Emily in through the door, into the dimly lit roadhouse, which is already crowded with gyrating bodies and loud with the clatter of rock 'n' roll. He finds a spot in a dark corner and parks the girls there, pressing a wet kiss behind Emily's ear as he steps away. "Stay here," he said, "we'll go to the bar."

Tommy hesitates to leave the girls but Jon leans in, his voice low. "They'll be fine. No one'll bother them." He doesn't say that he sometimes does under the table work for the owner, that the folks here all know him and wouldn't dare mess with the girls. He doesn't want to make Tommy anymore uncomfortable than he already is.

They walk together to the bar, Jon crowding up behind Tommy. He likes having an excuse to be this close to him in public, to feel Tommy's heat. Jon inclines his chin at the guy behind the bar, extends a hand to shake his. "A beer," he says, glances at Tommy. "A Tom Collins and two Pink Squirrels, thanks, Elijah." He hears Tommy clear his throat, like he might ask a question, but he doesn't.

Jon turns, back against the counter, elbows against it. Tommy stands stiffly beside him. "Relax, Tom," he says. "The music here is boss, our chicks are smokin', and it's Saturday night. Let loose."

Tommy looks pale and young in the dim light, and Jon wants to take him protectively into his arms, rub his back. Instead, he nudges his foot against Tommy's ankle. "What's going on?" he asks, serious-like.

Tommy draws a hand down over his mouth, looks over his shoulder at the girls, who are chatting and laughing, heads bent together, right where they left them. "I'm just - my old man would have a fit if he caught me in here," he says, cheeks red. He meets Jon's gaze sheepishly. "I need to get out of my head, I know."

Jon taps the side of his face, considering, then twists and motions for Elijah to come over. He asks for two shots of whiskey, smirking a little at the surprised look on Tommy's face. When Elijah sets them both out, Jon hands one to Tommy. "Bottoms up," he says, then throws the shot back, feeling the alcohol's sting as it slides down his throat. 

Tommy takes his too, coughing, but smiling. "Thanks," he says, voice hoarse. He sets the empty shot glass down heavily and tips his head a little toward Jon, like he's going to say something. But he changes his mind and pushes a hand back through his hair. Jon smiles at him.

When their drinks are ready, Jon picks his and Emily's up, gestures for Tommy to do the same. He nudges him along as they carry them over to where the girls are waiting. 

Emily immediately presses herself up against Jon. "Ooh, are the pink ones for us?" she asks, holding out a hand for him to slide the drink into. She takes a tiny sip, smiling. "What's it called?"

"It's a Pink Squirrel," Jon says. He leans back, casually, against the wall, draping an arm around Emily's shoulder, his fingers fiddling with the pleat in her dress's sleeve. "It's pretty and pink and perfect for you."

Hanna lifts hers toward him. "See you ordered me the same thing. Is it perfect for me, too?" She's teasing, her eyes dark. She makes room for Tommy, who sets his hand against her lower back gently, not taking up as much space as Jon does.

"I would have got you a whiskey sour if I didn't think Tommy would give me the stink eye over it." Jon grins behind his glass of beer, winks at them both, but mostly at Tommy, who turns red across his cheekbones. 

The music changes around them, moving easily from one song to another, but this one has a beat, is something to dance to. Not in the sock hop, aw shucks kind of way, either. Jon lights up. "Hey, Hanna, wanna show 'em how it's done?." He swallows down more of his beer then pushes away from the wall. He lets Emily protest meekly beside him before kissing her cheek with a smack and holding out his hand for Hanna. "Let's cut a rug."

Jon knows Emily and Tommy can dance, has attended enough school dances with them. But dancing here isn't the same as in the high school gymnasium during prom. He's danced here with Hanna before, knows they're good together like this.

Jon gathers Hanna into his arms, swaying with her, their hips pressed together, as he leads her out onto the dancefloor. She moves easily with him, suggestively like the song calls for, not with inches of space and hands on hips and shoulders like at school. He presses his hand against the back of her hip, fingers spread low against her butt, as they rock together in a tight circle, warming up. 

Hanna laughs and dips her nose against his collarbone.

When the tempo picks up, they get into it, breathless. Jon spins her out, catches her as she spins back in. He lifts her easily by the hips to swing her legs around his waist, dips her low. When he gets her back on her feet again, arms around her, Jon catches Tommy's eye and winks, barely. They dance together through another song before, arm swung casually across Hanna's shoulders, Jon walks her back to Tommy and Emily.

"I can do that," Emily says, pouting. 

Jon disentangles himself from Hanna to slide up next to Emily, drop a kiss to her mouth. "I know you can," he says, trailing his fingers down her arm until he laces their fingers together. "Let's go." Emily laughs, tugging on his hand until he leans down to kiss her. She smiles and pulls Jon out into the crowd.

Hanna watches Tommy watch them go before taking the opportunity to push him against the edge of the table they're hovering around and kiss him deeply. Her hand goes to the collar of his shirt, fingernails scraping the side of his neck. She loves how when he puts his big hands on her tiny waist it feels like he's touching all of her. She presses herself against him, kisses him until she can taste his drink on his tongue, and he can taste hers, too. She gets a hand between them, skimming the top of his chinos, thumbing at the button.

"Hanna," he warns, voice deep.

"Mmn," she hums against the side of his neck. "Live dangerously, Tommy. Jon would."

It's the right thing to say, judging by Tommy's sharp intake of breath, his fingers curling into her waist. The pressure feels so good. She lifts her head to look at him. Tommy's eyes are dark, a little unfocused. "Soon," he says, in a way that makes her shiver all over.

The very idea of anything more than under the shirt petting with her boyfriend sends a jolt of arousal right between her legs. She brushes her mouth against his jaw. "I can't wait."

"Hanna," Emily shouts, out of breath, cheeks bright, as she and Jon join them again. "Bathroom," she says, grabbing Hanna's hand. "_Now_." She touches Jon's arm and then pulls Hanna away, their heads bent together as they skirt the room to get to the ladies' room on the other side.

Jon steps up beside Tommy, his shoulder and hip touching Tommy's, casually. He picks up his beer and swallows half of it down quickly. He glances at Tommy, at his sharp cheekbones, the wave of his hair against his forehead, his arms crossed defensively against his chest. "Say, you're having fun, aren't you?" he asks, rocking his shoulder against Tommy's, just a little.

Tommy wipes his palms down his thighs. It draws Jon's gaze down, just for a moment before he coughs and snaps his attention back out into the room. "Uh, yeah. Look, Jon - can we -?"

But before he can finish, there's a shout and a scuffle across the room, by the bathrooms, and Jon is on the move without thinking. He misses the table when he tries to put his beer down and doesn't look back when the bottle clatters to the floor. Tommy's at his heels, saying his name in questioning concern.

Jon pushes past a few couples on the dance floor harder than he should, but it means he gets across to the narrow hallway leading to the bathrooms more quickly. He finds Emily, without Hanna, pressed up against the wall like she's trying to make herself smaller. There's a guy there, big and beefy, caging her in. Her eyes are wide and her hair is a little more mussed than it was just from the dancing.

"Hey," Jon says, drawing himself up, squaring his shoulders. "What's going on here?"

"None of your business," the guy says, sounding like he has something stuck in the back of his throat. He's not quite twice Jon's size, but he's definitely a lot bigger. Jon doesn't particularly care.

"Oh, I think it is my business. Emily, are you all right?"

She nods at him, eyes wet. "I'm fine. I just -" She tries to squeeze past him to get to Jon but the guy puts a beefy arm up, blocking her in. His elbow almost hits Jon in the face.

The guy leans in towards Emily, and his words are a little slurry, but he's steady on his feet."What's a pretty girl like you doing with a greaser like him? You can do better. I'm definitely better."

Jon feels the tension enter him. He holds it in his fists, clenched at his sides. He doesn't _want_ to get in a fight, but it isn't outside of the realm of possibility. "I think you should walk away now," he says, gritting his teeth. His face is hot, and he feels Tommy step up behind him, too close. 

The guy stands up straight again - in fact he's about a head taller than Jon - putting himself in between Jon and Emily. "Or else, what?" he asks, eyes flashing. The looks about to go ape, and Jon thinks now maybe that's not such a bad thing. "You and your candy ass little boyfriend here going to rough me up? You cruisin' for a bruisin', punk?"

Tommy's hand settles at the small of his back, steadying. "Hey, Jon, cool it," he says, right at his ear.

Hanna comes out of the bathroom, her mouth open like she's going to say something, but she stops short when she sees what's going on. Eyes narrow, she takes Emily by the elbow, pulls her away, in against her protectively. She gives Jon a firm nod.

Jon isn't good at cooling it, and he doesn't like the way this guy's messing with Emily, the way he's looking at her. And he absolutely doesn't like him insulting Tommy. "Big mistake, pal," Jon says in the moment before he throws the first punch.

Emily shrieks as Jon's left fist connects with the guy's nose, sending him back against the wall. It hurts, the pain shooting up Jon's arm, and he stumbles back into Tommy, who keeps him on balance.

"Why, you - !" The guy, who's clutching at his bleeding nose, rears back and then slams himself against Jon, sending both him and Tommy back into one of the tables just inside the main room. Somehow, Tommy keeps upright, but Jon's arm smacks the table, flipping it. He falls to the ground too. The fight sends up a commotion, with Tommy and Emily both trying to help Jon to his feet, a crowd gathering around them. 

"Em," Tommy says urgently. "Get Hanna. We're getting out of here."

Jon isn't done yet, even with Tommy yanking on his arm and Emily and Hanna making for the door. He puts his whole weight forward and barrels into the guy like he's a linebacker. It hardly does anything, and the next thing he knows, he's seeing a fist flash before his eye and then nothing but black.

-

Jon hooks an arm around Emily's waist, hitching her up against his chest as he sits sideways in the booth. He opens his mouth, just briefly, against the back of her neck, making her squirm and swat at him.

"You'll never guess what I heard," she says, swinging her legs and turning to face him. She winces, as she has done over the last week since he got a shiner at the roadhouse, though the black and blue bruise has faded to a shade of yellow not unlike some varieties of baby food. He reflexively touches his cheekbone gingerly.

"What's that?"

"Travis and Jen got engaged," she tells him, wide-eyed. "I bet they're just the first. We'll have so many weddings to go to this fall."

Jon isn't sure he wants to go to any wedding, certainly not any from the crowd that Emily (and Tommy) goes with. He doesn't have the right clothes for it, he won’t fit in, and he can't imagine anything more boring than a country club wedding. He doesn't say that to Emily though. "Swell," he says. He grins over at Alyssa, his favorite waitress, and gives her a nod, ready for her to take their order.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Tommy asks Hanna before he goes off to college, either," Emily's saying, and his attention snaps back at her. "That way they can plan a summer wedding next year, and then she can go with him when he goes back to college."

Jon scratches at his chin. "I'm not so sure Hanna's the marrying type," he says, because he doesn't know what else to say. He wouldn't be surprised either, if Tommy asks, just like he wouldn't be surprised if Hanna says no. Although he can't imagine either of them with anyone but the other. He also wouldn't be surprised if Emily's expecting him to ask, he realizes. He looks at her.

She sits beside him, back straight, hands folded over the formica tabletop, looking right back at him. "Well I certainly hope she wouldn't tell him _no_. She'll never find another guy like Tommy."

Jon definitely agrees with that, there's no one better than Tommy, but he's thankful when Alyssa comes by their table. "Burger and fries," he orders, glances at Emily. "And a chocolate malt."

Emily orders the same, without the malt because they're going to share. They always share. Jon doesn't want to order for Tommy and Hanna, but he tells Alyssa they're on their way so she can make note. They usually order the same thing every time too. He doesn't know why they're running late, and something uneasy flips his stomach.

Once Alyssa leaves, Emily touches Jon's elbow. "You know, I was talking to Daddy and he says he'll give you a job at the store, if you want it. I bet you can work your way up and maybe Daddy might let you take over the store one day, if you - if we -" She slides her arm through his and leans her cheek against the roughness of his leather jacket. "Just think about it, Jon," she whispers.

He does. He will. He nods and squeezes her against him. "Course I will, Em," he promises her. He knows that's the next step for them, what else would they do now that high school is over. He knows he's not good enough for her, and he doesn't understand what she sees in him, why she isn't with someone like Tommy. He doesn't want to lose her, of course he doesn't. 

The door jingles and Jon twists and looks, grins when he spots Tommy and Hanna, fresh faced and bright, bound in. Hanna's hand is pressed against her chest, a giant diamond front and center on her ring finger. Emily jumps to her feet, squealing, and rushes over to her. "I knew it," she says, clapping. Her ponytail bounces. "I just told Jon I bet you'd be next. I'm excited for you!"

"Next? You and Jon -?"

Emily shakes her head, glances back over her shoulder, a hopeful look on her face. But she looks away just as quickly, ducking her head alongside Hanna's and talking too quietly for Jon and Tommy to hear.

Tommy drops into the booth across from Jon. His cheeks are red. "Did you order already?"

Jon grasps the table and leans over toward Tommy. "You proposed? She said yes?"

"Well sure, Jon, why would she say no?" Tommy's smile is wide, but he still looks a little nervous. "You'll stand up with me, won't you?"

Jon is floored. Positively gobsmacked. "Yeah, yeah of course I will. That's neato keeno, Tommy. I'm real happy for you." He is. He wants to be. It terrifies him that this means Emily's really going to expect him to ask her too.

Tommy coughs lightly, eyeballs the girls then back at Jon. "Hey uh - you think maybe we can take the girls away for the weekend soon? Can you get out of work? Emily's parents have that cabin out by the lake. We can go away, you know, celebrate, all of us together."

Jon chews on the tip of his thumb, the habit worse now that he doesn't reach for a cigarette. "I don't know," he says. "Guess it depends on the weekend. That could be fun."

They both glance over at the girls, who are talking in hushed tones, Hanna showing off her engagement ring. Tommy turns back to Jon, grinning widely, eyes bright. "Really fun," he says, and the way he says it twists arousal in Jon's belly. Imagine, he thinks, all that the four of them could get up to away for a whole weekend, alone together. 

"Yeah," Jon says. "I'll make it work."

-

Jon walks out of the house with two bottles, passes one to Tommy. He clinks his against the other before sinking onto the ground beside Tommy's lounge chair and tipping his head back to take a long swig. The beer is cold, feels good and tastes better. 

"Where did the girls go?" he asks, resting the back of his head against the side of Tommy's thigh.

Tommy cards his fingers into Jon's hair, loose and soft because he didn't bother with pomade that morning. His thumb massages Jon's temple. "In the lake," he says. "Hanna said they needed to cool off."

"Mmn." Jon closes his eyes for Tommy's touch. He holds the bottle of beer between his knees, the condensation cold and west against his bare skin. 

It is warm here at the Blacks' lake house, though not as hot as it would be on the beach. There's a cool breeze that comes off the water now and again, carrying with it none of the sounds of the shore, only birds chirping, a rustle of leaves, and Emily and Hanna's bubbly laughter.

"I think Hanna and I are gonna seal the deal tonight," Tommy says quietly.

It takes Jon a moment before he realizes what Tommy's said, so caught up in the feeling of his fingers in his hair, against his scalp. He pulls away and twists to look at Tommy. "You mean, you and her have never -?"

Tommy's cheeks pinken. "Uh, no, not - all the way, not yet. I've never - have you and Emily?"

Jon shakes his head. "Of course not. Emily's not like that." But that isn't to say he doesn't think about it all the time. He's asked too, maybe put a little bit too much pressure on Emily, but she's always stood her ground. He figures she's not going to put out until after she's dragged him down the aisle.

"Neither's Hanna," Tommy says defensively, and Jon doesn't argue. "I know she wants to though. I just - it isn't something I thought I'd be doing until my wedding night. Sounds silly, huh?" 

Jon always assumed that Tommy and Hanna were already getting it on, though he supposes it might have been Tommy rather than Hanna who was holding back. "No, no not at all," Jon says quickly, only lying a little bit. He turns around fully, sets his chin familiarly on Tommy's leg and looks up at him. "Tonight's the perfect time for it. Really."

Tommy hesitates before brushing his knuckle over Jon's cheek. "You've done it before, Jon, haven't you?" Jon nods. "Will you - what's it like?" He looks at Jon with hope and nerves in his eyes, and when he drops his hand to his side, his fingertips slip over the shell of Jon's ear.

"It's like - remember the other week, in my yard," Jon says, keeping his voice low, steady. He doesn't want to spook Tommy, wants to let him know this is okay to talk about, to - do. "How good that felt, someone else touching you so you're not jacking yourself off?" Tommy nods, his lips parting. His gaze drops for a moment to Jon's mouth before he clears his throat and ducks his head. "It's like that, only better. It's all this heat wrapped wetly around your dick. Tom, it feels really, really good." He can't help letting his voice drop, low and raspy. He doesn't take his eyes off Tommy. "Has Hanna given you a BJ yet?" He pokes his tongue against the side of his mouth obscenely.

Tommy shakes his head, face red. When he starts talking, the words come out in a rush, like he can't hold them back. "No. But. Could you - ? Will you -?"

Jon doesn't want to assume what Tommy's asking. He doesn't want to put words in his mouth, even though Jon really wants to put Tommy's dick in his mouth. "What do you want, Tommy?"

He looks like he's struggling. He flexes his fist at his side, lifts his hips off the lounger. "Your mouth, Jon, please." 

He doesn't need to be asked twice. Jon lifts up on his knees, gets his thumbs under the waist of Tommy's swim trunks and pushes them down to the middle of his thighs. Tommy is half hard, just from their conversation, or maybe in anticipation, breathing heavily as he stares down at Jon's hand as he wraps it around Tommy's dick, stroking him dryly. 

Jon pulls his hand back, spits into his palm, and wraps it back around Tommy's dick. They both groan. He strokes him a few times, squeezing the base of Tommy's dick, palming the head, slow and steady. He feels him harden, hot under his palm. Jon and Tommy both watch Jon's fist as Tommy's dick disappears and lengthens under it. Tommy holds himself up on his elbows. "God," he moans.

Jon licks his lips. 

"Have you - done this before?" Each word comes out in a tight breath, Tommy's chest heaving.

"No," Jon says in the moment before he bends down and takes Tommy in his mouth. It's not what he expects, not like going down on a chick, which is wet and sweet, like the sno-cones he's selling that summer. This is musky, heady, like popping his mouth around a popsicle on a hot summer day. 

Tommy bucks his hips, his cock hitting the back of Jon's throat. Gagging, he pulled off, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sorry," Tommy whines. His fingers curl against Jon's ear. 

Jon coughs through a wry smile. "You're fine," he says, voice hoarse. "Just -" He presses a hand against Tommy's hip, holds him down. He likes this, he realizes, likes the way Tommy's dick tastes, the way he smells of sex and sunshine. He really likes the feeling of Tommy's hand at the side of his head, pushing him down. And the breathy noises Tommy makes, like he's trying to be quiet. Jon wants him to be loud, wants the girls to hear him all the way down at the lake, wants them to come up to join them.

For now though, Jon concentrates on making Tommy feel good. It's really working for Jon, too, and he's glad he's wearing swim trunks. It's their first blow job, and Tommy comes so quickly he doesn't think to warn Jon, who doesn't think to pull off until it's already happening. He swallows some of it, but the rest makes a mess of Jon's cheek, his jaw, down his chin, as he sits back on his heels. He wipes at the jizz on his face with his fingertips, clears his throat.

Tommy's chest and stomach heave as he pants, his dick softening against his thigh. "Jon," he says. "You - my turn." He opens and closes his fist at Jon, who isn't sure what he's asking for. "Come up here," Tommy pleads.

Jon complies.

He doesn't expect Tommy to kiss him, not with his face a mess, but that's what he does the moment Jon joins him on the lounge chair. He gets his knees on either side of Tommy's hips and a hand to steady himself against Tommy's chest. They kiss deeply, the sun warming them. Jon tries not to drop himself fully on top of Tommy, even though he wants to feel all of him touching all of Tommy.

Tommy sits up, pushing Jon back but leaning into their kisses until he can get his hand inside Jon's swim trunks. Tommy's hand wraps around his dick, and Jon drops his forehead to Tommy's shoulder. 

"God, Tom," he groans, moving his hips as Tommy jerks him off with fast, hard strokes. He's leaking, has been since before Tommy came in his mouth, so it's slick, a little sticky, and it feels so good. Tommy's hand is big, his palm hot around Jon's dick. He knows what he's doing. Jon thinks, wildly, about all the times Tommy's jacked himself off, and it makes him hot all over.

Jon turns his face against Tommy's neck, hot, and opens his mouth to lick at the sheen of sweat there. The hitch in Tommy's breath matches the jerk of Jon's hips. It doesn't take him long once Tommy's fist is around his dick before Jon comes, sputtering over Tommy's hand and stomach.

Jon gives himself a minute, less than, before he lifts his face to kiss Tommy again, greedy and open-mouthed, as he slides back off the lounger. "We should," he starts, "we should get cleaned up. Before the girls come back up here."

Tommy looks up at him, wrecked, eyes wide, lips wet, face red, and he nods. "Right," he says, "of course, we should." He stands up, pulls his swim trunks back up.

Jon watches at Tommy drags his come-covered fingers across the mess on his stomach. Jon, flushing, looks away. He lets Tommy duck into the house, use the bathroom first.

-

After supper, once the air is cooler and the sky dimmer, the four of them return to the patio. Emily and Jon share a lounger, Hanna leans against the porch railing, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth, and Tommy emerges from the house, his arms full of firecrackers.

"We can shoot these off out here, Em, right?"

She lifts her head from Jon's chest. "Oh, sure. We'll need to go down closer to the lake, away from the house, but sure we can."

"Cool," he says. He has a glint in his eyes that Hanna latches on to.

"Well, wouldn't you know, I can still learn something new about you each day. My guy's got a little pyro in him." She crosses over to him and kisses him, lingering. Tommy blushes to the tips of his ears.

Emily tucks her nose in against Jon's neck and giggles. He pulls her in closer against him, likes feeling her tucked alongside him, turns and presses a familiar kiss at the top of her head.

Hanna loops her arm through Tommy's. "Let's go shoot off some fireworks," she says.

"And maybe make some of our own after?" Jon jokes, hopefully, which earns him a slap on the shoulder as Emily moves off of him. "What?" he asks, mock-offended. "It's a beautiful night for some necking and petting, maybe more." He wags his eyebrows at Emily, bends down for a not-so-chaste kiss. When he pulls back, he catches Tommy's eye. He knows they're both thinking of earlier that afternoon, but also thinking about what they might do, all four of them, later. 

"Hey, Jonny," Hanna calls over her shoulder on their way down to the lake. "You got your lighter on you? This one was so excited about the firecrackers that he didn't think to grab matches."

Jon digs it out of his blue jeans pocket. "Right here."

She lifts a hand and he tosses it to her. Tommy snatches it out of the air and puckers up for a kiss from Hanna. "Come on, Jon," he says, "let's shoot off some rockets."

Emily meanders off to join Hanna, the two of them sitting together on the slight slope of the hill between the lake and the house. Hanna leans back on her arms, crosses her ankles out in front of her. "They are a sight to behold, huh?" she says, head tilted, enjoying the view of Jon and Tommy bent over, arranging the firecrackers.

"Mmn," Emily agrees. She presses her shoulder, side, leg, against Hanna. "We are very lucky."

Hanna slides her fingers through Emily's and squeezes her hand. "Yes, we are."

Emily drops her cheek onto Hanna's shoulder and sighs. "Do you think," she says softly, after a moment of watching their boyfriends quietly, "that Jon will marry me?" It's a timid question, laced with a little mix of both hope and doubt.

Hanna's breath hitches. "Oh, babe, I - don't know. He'd be an absolute fool if he didn't."

Emily nods, vaguely, agreeing. "I just - I can't imagine not having this. Us. The four of us, all together like this. If you marry Tommy, and I marry Jon, then we can have it. If I don't -" She cuts herself off sharply, closes her eyes. A shiver runs through her.

Hanna turns and kisses the side of Emily's head. "I know," she whispers into her soft, blond hair. They both smile, a little. It's a tender moment, and when Emily lifts her head, Hanna's looking at her, leaning in closer. They won't be able to do this if it's not the four of them, arranged like they are now. The boys won't be able to have their moments together, like this afternoon, either. 

"Hey, are you two ready?" Jon's shout makes Emily jump, but she recovers, glad for the fading evening light to cover her blush. 

"Fire away," Hanna calls out.

The boys have set out about a dozen firecrackers, and Tommy jogs down the row, lighting each fuse with Jon's lighter. They both race back up the hill to Emily and Hanna, collapsing on either side of them a moment before the first rocket shoots off.

Their personal fireworks show doesn't last very long, especially because one in the middle kind of shoots sideways, prematurely igniting two to its right, but it does what it's meant to do: explodes with a cacophony of sound and lights, eliciting enough oohs and ahhs that they all enjoy themselves. 

The air smells acrid, but not in a bad way, and Emily's curled up on her side on the grass beside Jon, her cheek resting against his chest so he can stroke his fingers through her hair, Hanna and Tommy on his other side. "Well done," she cheers, clapping, after the last crack and the smoke begins to clear. With a hand to steady herself against Jon's stomach, she leans over to brush her mouth against Tommy's cheek.

Jon moves his hand up her back to steady her as she stretches across him. Someone - Hanna, it sounds like - gives a mewl of encouragement and, after a moment's hesitation, Tommy turns his head enough to kiss Emily properly. She touches the side of his neck and leans into it. Jon sits up better, in-between them, and kisses Emily's shoulder. His mouth opens against her skin with a groan when Hanna's hand slides right into his lap. He jerks back to look at her. 

She grins, shrugging. "You said you wanted us to make some fireworks of our own, didn't you?"

He laughs, lightly, and glances at Emily and Tommy before curling a palm against the back of Hanna's head and pulling her against him. "Yeah," he says, mouth opening over hers. 

Maybe this is what Tommy needs, what Emily needs too, before they can relax with both Hanna and Jon. Give them each something to watch, to see that it's okay to give in to this, to _want_ this. Jon maneuvers them all, giving Tommy and Emily a chance to get closer, pulling Hanna in against him. She palms him through his jeans, and he's getting hard right away. He kisses her with purpose, enjoying all of the subtle differences from kissing Emily. Or Tommy.

Hanna enjoys control, and Jon is happy to give it to her, lets her tilt his face towards her the way she wants it, sucks her tongue into his mouth, presses her fingers hard against his shoulder, holding on tightly. Her other hand is still between his legs, and he groans into her mouth, gets his hands on her hips and hefts her on top of him. There, she can rock her hips against his, the friction almost too much but he doesn't care. He sinks a hand into her hair and lifts up to meet her.

Beside them, Tommy clears his throat and Emily squeaks. When Hanna breaks the kiss, she and Jon both turn to look at them. Hanna's mouth is pink and plush. She licks her lips. "Go ahead, Tommy," she whispers, huskily. "It's okay. I want to see you make Emily feel good."

Tommy looks at her, at Jon, who's working on his breathing, then at Emily. He gets her onto her back, blonde hair spread out in the grass. He touches the hem of her shirt, hesitates and looks at Hanna and Jon, who are very occupied with each other, then at Emily, who nods, her lower lip between her teeth. 

He peels it up, exposing her stomach, tanned from half a summer spent in the sun, on the beach. She sits up, enough, for him to pull it up and over her head. She's wearing a simple, white cotton bra. He's done this much with Hanna before, but there's something about seeing Emily spread out before him, Hanna and Jon right there too, that makes him swallow nervously.

"Hey," Emily says, reaching out to touch his brow. "It's okay. I want you to touch me." 

Tommy grins at that, leans in to nose at her neck, her throat, down to the swell of her breast, just above the soft material of her bra. She breathes out and arches up, an invitation. Tommy brushes his thumb over Emily's breast, enjoying the way her body shudders from head to toe. He pushes the cotton aside, then bends down to take a nipple between his teeth, tugging gently but not closing his mouth around it.

"Wowza," Hanna says. It's a little bit goofy, but it's perfect, right now.

Jon swears under his breath, opens his mouth to breathe against the side of Hanna's throat. "Stop teasing her, Tom," he says, voice like gravel. 

Hanna touches Jon's cheek. "Why don't you show him how it's done?"

Jon isn't sure how this whole thing morphed into Hanna taking charge, but he doesn't mind. He kisses her again, lingering longer than he means to, then moves against Emily's other side. He slips his fingers under the curve of her breast, up to the strap of her bra, then pulls it down her shoulder. As soon as her breast is bared, he takes it in his mouth, sucking gently, then harder, until he gets Emily to draw in a quick, sharp breath. She touches his hair, moves her hand between his shoulder blades as he uses his teeth, alternately nibbling and sucking, just on the right side of pain versus pleasure. Tommy's arm comes across her stomach, pinning her down, and he mirrors Jon's efforts on her other breast.

"Gorgeous," Hanna murmurs. A moment, and then, "do you mind if I, like -"

When Tommy lifts his head, his lips popping off Emily's breast, he sees Hanna moving toward Emily. Their mouths meet in a blur of hair and glossed lips, kissing each other, warm and wet. He watches them for what must be a moment too long, because Emily twists her fingers into his curls and pushes his head back down until he's licking around her nipple in solid, strong strokes, so close to Jon, they could brush their jaws together if they wanted to. Tommy wants to, but he focuses on Emily.

It's so quiet and private out here that Jon can hear everything. The sound of Tommy's suckling mouth, the rustle of the wind in the grass under them, Emily panting into Hanna's mouth, the sound the girls make every time they pull apart and go back in again. 

Jon doesn't want to push it, but with Emily squirming under his mouth, _Tommy's_ mouth, he slides his hand down the outside of her leg and back up again, against the inside of her thigh, pushing her skirt up as he goes. She opens her legs for him, and her grip in his hair tightens. He takes that as a yes and brushes his fingertips against her, through her panties. She's wet, soaked through the cotton. He moans, pulls his mouth away to look up at her. They haven't done this yet, haven't gone this far. He's wanted to, god of course he's wanted to. But he hasn't pushed. He tucks his fingertip under the edge of her underwear to touch her, skin to skin. It makes makes him shudder, how good she feels.

Emily gasps and breaks the kiss with Hanna. "Jon," she moans, drawing out the ‘o’.

He looks at her, takes in her parted lips, the flush across her cheeks, down her neck. Tommy lifts his head too, looks down at Jon, eyes wide. "Is this okay, Em?" Jon asks, brushing his finger over her, up and down. He turns and kisses the inside of her thigh. She spreads her legs wider but he doesn't hear her answer, so he stills his touch and looks at her again. "Em?"

Hanna's hand cups Emily's cheek, her thumb against her lips. "You need to give him an answer, babe," she says. She smiles, fondly, at both Tommy and Jon before her attention returns to Emily. "Either way, you just need to say it."

Emily's tongue darts out, tasting the tip of Hanna's thumb. "Y - yes," she says. She looks at Jon. "Yes, it's - yes. _Please._."

Quickly, Jon gets Emily's underwear off, tapping her hip so she lifts up and he can pull them over her ankles. He leaves her skirt on, likes the way it looks, bunched up at the tops of her thighs, the only layer of clothing left. He kisses the inside of her knee as he slides his fingers back between her legs, letting them get covered in her wet arousal.

When his thumb passes over her clit, she arches up with a moan, and Jon looks at her, both of them panting.

Hanna kisses her, passes her to Tommy so he can kiss her too, their hands each cupping a breast.

Jon's stomach leaps, his heart so full. The sun has gone down and the air is cool, and the four of them can do this, be together here. They can spread Emily out, all soft and warm, draw out an orgasm. Jon can let his gaze linger as long as he wants on the line of Tommy's jaw. They can all kiss one another indiscriminately. 

He shakes himself out of all these warm thoughts and happily returns to the task at hand.

-

Tommy wakes up slowly, the sunlight slanted through the curtains fluttering against the open window. He's warm, from both the midmorning summer air and the three bodies in bed with him. He blinks a few times to focus. 

Tommy sleeps on his stomach, and he's sandwiched between Jon on one side and a tangled-together Hanna and Emily on the other. He smiles, fond, at the two of them, hair splayed over the pillows, Emily's cheek tucked into Hanna's neck. Jon's curled around him, asleep on his side, arm thrown across Tommy's lower back. He feels so warm and comfortable, heavy and pliant. He never wants to get up from the bed, various parts of his body touching all three of the people he - loves. His chest swells with feeling. Why can't they have this? he wonders, still sleepy but feeling floaty, satiated in a way he's never felt in his life before. 

He reaches out slowly, cards his fingers through Emily's hair against her shoulder. He brushes his thumb over Hanna's jaw, across her lips. She shifts, opens her mouth in her sleep. He smiles, thinks about marrying her, about having this every day.

The heel of Jon's hand flexes at the dip of Tommy's hip, like he's stretching, maybe he's pulling Tommy closer but he isn't sure how much closer they could possibly get without - Tommy's face goes hot, and he lifts his head and shoulders so that he can look at Jon, who's awake, eyes heavy lidded and dark. 

The corner of his mouth twists. "Morning," Jon says hoarsely.

Tommy wets his lips. "Morning." He fights the widening of his smile, only for a moment, then lets it loose. 

Jon shimmies closer, his hand moving lower, over the curve of Tommy's butt. He tenses, for a moment, then relaxes. Jon kisses him, slow and open mouthed. Tommy returns the kiss, moaning at the scratch of Jon's morning stubble along his jaw. He could do this for hours, languidly make out with Jon. Sucking Jon's tongue into his mouth, lick into Jon's mouth until there's not a crevice left unknown. He shivers, a full body shiver, when Jon squeezes his ass and nudges his thigh over Tommy's leg. Tommy rolls onto his side, threads his fingers into Jon's short hair. He turns the kiss wilder, hardening against Jon's hip. 

A small hand slides up the back of Tommy's neck and Hanna practically purrs in his ear. "I hope you boys haven't started without us."

Tommy pulls back, flushed. He takes a breath but Jon answers first. "Just getting warmed up," he says, voice low.

Hanna scratches up the back of Tommy's head. "Just imagine," she says. Emily interrupts her with a yawn, a tires "hmn, what?" then lets her continue. "Once we're married -" And she doesn't specify who, even though Hanna and Tommy are the ones who are engaged right now. "We can do this all the time."

Tommy lifts his focus to Jon, who's looking at him very intently. "Would you want that?" Jon asks softly. 

Tommy knows Jon’s asking him, specifically, so he nods. Yes, Jon, let's do this, let's all get married and spend the summers together, all of us, like this. Exactly like this. 

Jon's expression is a mix of emotions, mostly conflict and surprise, but there's definitely some resignation under the surface. He wants to marry Emily, have her with him for the rest of their lives. He knows it was a very real future for them since they started going together. It's just different, for him, scary moving up in the world, as it were.

He pulls his hand away from where it had settled against the curve of Tommy's upper thigh and rolls over onto his back, a palm pressed over his eyes.

"Jon?" Emily asks meekly.

"Hey baby," he murmurs. "Come over here."

She does, climbing over Hanna and Tommy - he curves into himself, away from her, against Hanna who presses herself up against Tommy's back - and settles on top of Jon. Emily slides her hands over his shoulders, and he leans up to kiss her softly, lingering. He loves her, can see himself marrying her. Also, he knows, he loves Tommy and he loves Hanna. They can do this.

"Yeah," he says, curling his hands over her hips. He squeezes lightly, looking up at her. "Let's do it."

**Author's Note:**

> I'd really appreciate a comment with what you think about this if you can spare a minute to leave one! <3
> 
> Also, I don't have a podsa tumblr but if you'd like to prompt me for anything, you can [go here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vRLGDsRuzHtsQVH2kKssTWyn-n8goN7th7LJooyWGaAh5dFrY2RD8YzA6Nxwct9jBHiwyUH_OirqWvQ/pub)!


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